


Write it Red - The Borderlands Drabbles

by Rednaelo



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, M/M, Multi, it's mostly smut lol, see chapter notes for drabbles' respective tags and ratings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 15,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Rednaelo
Summary: Borderlands themed drabbles and prompt-fills reposted from tambles.





	1. For What Ails the Heart - G

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration for all the BL3 hype i figured i'd go ahead and repost these here. I think there's a bunch of gems here that people still like to this day and that makes me smile.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up first is a prompt sent in by [voidbeast](https://voidbeast.tumblr.com/): "I never knew you could write" Rhysothy?  
> #Timothy Lawrence/Rhys #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Depression #Fluff #Domestic Cuteness

The cycles came and went without a pattern and they ways they dealt with the onset of downswings were different.  Rhys tried to power through his.  Doses of denial and workaholism and insomnia spent with his eyes turning red from staring at bring screens in dark rooms and the next day, Timothy would drag his feet to the kitchen to make himself coffee and find spreadsheets printed out and spread like leaves across the floors.  A day or a week or a month and Rhys would stop sleeping on the couch and curl up next to Tim in their bed when bedtime came.

Timothy’s bad times were quiet.  Unseen.  Self-contained.  Marked by limp smiles and one word answers and shrugged shoulders.  Rhys had known him long enough to not take a crowbar to him to try and pry out the Reasons or Solutions but just tried to stay near.  Tim, some days, would sit on the couch in the morning and forego the next chapter of his book and his coffee would cool to tepid on the side table.  Doing anything felt heavy.  The day was a checklist of things to do and Timothy would sit and find his whole body turned to stone as the oils of his fingers wore away a single spot on the page of his book, never turned, the words never read.

Rhys didn’t ask him if he had gotten dinner started.  He always asked when he came home and Tim was there before him but not on days like this.  Timothy wondered if his awareness of this discrepancy meant that he should feel guilty.  Probably.  If Rhys was home, then the day was already over.  He hadn’t gone out to the grocery store like he knew they needed.  

Something light landed on Timothy’s lap and he looked down to see an envelope with its flap coming to rest.  Rhys was off to the side, smiling at him.

“I decided to come home for lunch,” he said, holding up a plastic bag full of styrofoam takeout boxes.  “Brought you Indian.”

He sat down next to Tim and began to unpack the boxes while Timothy found it in his stone extremities to shift, move the book off his lap, pull out the card that had been casually tossed onto his rigid fingers.  So…the whole day wasn’t gone yet.  That made Tim feel…sort of better.

The outside of the card had a picture of a lethargic looking Boston terrier in black and white; Tim snorted gently.  The inside was blank - without any Hallmark punchline or niceism that made greeting cards marketable, that is - but full of scrawled and smudged and scratched words of familiar, hasty penmanship.  Top-to-bottom, on both sides.  Timothy read Rhys’ words while the smell of channa masala and paneer-stuffed naan filled the apartment. 

“You wrote me a fairy tale,” Tim says, the words gummy in his throat from too long of disuse.  It was anecdotal, familiar. A retelling of their time spent on that week-long roadtrip they took last summer only Rhys was a persnickety prince and Timothy was a jaded knight and they were on a quest to find some medieval nirvana. 

_And they didn’t live happily every after because that’s just a cop-out but they did live together and faced all their dragons hand-in-hand, whenever they showed their fiery lizard faces.  The End._

“I never knew you could write,” Tim said.  Rhys was smiling at him, which must’ve meant Tim was smiling too.

“Yeah, well, it’s a talent with selective timing,” Rhys said, ripping off a bit of naan and holding it out to Tim.  “Eat your food before I do.”

Later, Rhys would call out of work for the rest of the day due to ‘food poisoning’ and they would do the grocery shopping together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162463026691/) if you would like to like/reblog it.


	2. Too Much, Not Enough - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: Jack fucking Rhys sloppy so bad he can't even talk straight - Explicit NSFW  
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #sloppy sex #overstimulation #possessiveness

The houseplants were going in and out of focus.  Some sort-of coherent part of Rhys’ mind was trying to tell him…something.  About how this was a silly detail to focus on.  How there was something  _wrong_  that needed to be noted.  Maybe how he should open his mouth and  _say_  something but the problem with that was how every time Rhys opened his mouth, all that would come out was incoherent noises and drool.  And then Jack would reach around and shove his fingers in Rhys’ mouth and Rhys would forget that he was anything but sexual hunger inhabiting a human body.

His whole body was shaking.  From his legs trembling, knees planted in the soft leather of the couch, the shivers wracking him in their unsteady tremors along his vertebrae, and how Jack was fucking Rhys so deeply, his brain felt like nothing but a slosh in his skull.  Jack’s hips would snap forward, his balls would smack against Rhys’ taint, his hips crashing against Rhys’ ass with only his skinny, little butt to cushion that blow and it would sound  _wet_  and their skin would stick and peel away again from the sweat and lube that lingered.

Rhys was trying very,  _very_  hard not to scratch the leather.  That would be a mistake.  But beneath his clammy palms, he felt like each push Jack made into him was going to knock him over and send him tipping over the arm of the couch.  He braced his hands and rolled his hips back and Jack’s fingers somehow were back between his lips, tasting salty and perfectly calloused.  

Jack had been so magnanimous as to give Rhys a reacharound;  four strokes in and Rhys was slobbering a cry of ecstatic defeat and coating the buttery leather couch in cum.

“Wow, really?” Jack laughed behind him, sounding amused as he wiped whatever bit of Rhys’ release had stuck to him on Rhys’ ass  “Alright, well, I’m not done.”

Which was all the warning Rhys got.  Jack’s hands pushed against Rhys’ shoulders, pressing him down until his face was mashed - hot, sweaty - against the couch.  The pounding resumed.  Rhys noticed the houseplants were going in and out of focus.  Mostly out.  Against all odds, Jack was going  _faster_.  His cock was stretching Rhys’ hole with a sharp sting starting to make itself known as the lube dried up or wore off.  Rhys reached behind himself to try and grab Jack’s wrist, to get his attention, to tell him to use more.

Jack snagged Rhys’ hand and pinned it to his back and fucked him  _harder_.  

“O-oh!” Rhys whimpered.  When he opened his eyes, they felt like they were spinning in his skull.  Jack shifted his angle and pressed deeper and went harder and was saying  _something_  but who knew what it was.  Rhys’ reptile brain wouldn’t translate anything but the guttural, greedy undertone that meant  _my mate, mine, mine, mine_.

He missed the moment that Jack came but blinked back to the feeling of his own fingers smearing Jack’s cum against his hole.

“That was a good one, babe,” Jack says from…somewhere.  “You look good like that.  Like a hot damn mess.”

“Unnmgh,” Rhys agreed, mashing his red, red face against the couch while he pushed his sticky, shaky fingers inside of himself, feeling how loose he still was.  “Fuhh-I ah….  Mnngh,” he added.

Jack laughed at him.  Rhys licked his lips - licked the couch on accident - while he pushed around, looking for his prostate while his dick twitched back to life, wanting a second round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162464150976) if you want to like/reblog it


	3. Lazarus.exe - G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: rhys asking questions every now and then from jack over some months about Angel until he gets enough info to attempt at an ai of her to surprise jack? jack may or may not be an ai in this, whatever you like. sad, fluff, whatever works for you.  
> #bittersweet #family reunion #what if endings were never sad

There was no time for side projects.  Rhys had Hyperion to run, for god’s sake, he didn’t have time to do things like sit down and dedicate his time to coding advanced intelligences.  But between corporate meetings and budget plans reviews, between managerial visits and interplanetary press junkets (the new  _new_ face of Hyperion? with the old new face lingering not far behind it) Rhys was coding.  On his palmEcho.  Which was a feat in and of itself, honestly.  

He sat at his kitchen table, immersed in the syntax, trying to balance listening to Jack and including some crucial elements to the code.

“You know, typical teenage girl,” Jack was saying gently.  He was floating around ‘sitting’ in his boss-pose with his ankle on his knee and his arms resting on either side of him, like on the arms of the chair back at the office.  Their office  Mostly Rhys’ but it was Jack’s too.  “You ever talked to a teenage girl, Rhys?”

“Uh, when I was a teenager,” Rhys said, his echoEye scanning the lines trying to pinpoint where he’d made his error.  “It’s been a while.”

“Well, like that.  Only perfect.”  After the successful takeover of Hyperion, Jack had been more forthcoming about details about Angel.  He volunteered information on his own after he found out about her death, first demanding that a memorial be built for her and put front and center in the Hub of Heroism.  12 tons, pure bronze, platinum detailing.  It was beautiful monument and Jack was actually delighted that when it went up, it accidentally crushed a couple of the workers.

“I’m so proud of her,” he’d said.

Rhys just used it as an excuse to surreptitiously ask Jack more about Angel.  Jack willingly admitted that he hadn’t had a lot of time in their later years to get to know her better.  But what he  _did_ know, he was generous with.

Rhys didn’t have time to code an entire A.I. with how busy he was.  But he did anyway.  

It took three years and at the end of their successful merger (read: hostile takeover) with Maliwan, Rhys sat behind the desk at the office, tugging his bowtie loose from his collar while he listened to Jack cackle in triumph.  

“Now’s a good a time as any,” Rhys said, sounding worn out from all the smiling and hand-shaking he had to do at that stupid gala they’d come from.

“Good time for what, babe?” Jack asked him as he sat on the desk.  Rhys held up the little data drive and plugged it directly into the Helios network.  For a while, there was nothing.  And then….

The likeness, Rhys felt, was probably the best.  He’d spent hours combing whatever archives he could, digitally sculpting Angel to be as close to the reality as possible.  He smiled at her when she appeared, her boots settling easily on the floor. 

“Dad?” was the first word out of her mouth, her eyes focusing on Jack, who was looking right back, frozen between gobsmacked and frantic.  Rhys bit down on his bottom lip - he saw the way her lip curled up, the little wrinkle in her nose like a sneer - but then she just sighed it all away.  And Rhys felt like he could breathe again.  Good.  Good….

“Baby girl, is that you?”  Jack got up from the desk and came towards Angel with his arms outstretched, though cautious.  And when she threw herself against him, he hugged her tight as if the whole universe might try to stop him. 

Rhys might’ve clamored for some praise, since practically every spare moment of his life for the past three years had been leading up to this gift.  But when Jack’s shoulders started shaking and Angel’s murmurs fell wordlessly on Rhys’ ears - muffled from being ‘buried’ against Jack - he decided he could wait for his thanks later.  He went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself some champagne because this was a more worthy cause of celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162477239036) if you want to like/reblog it


	4. Bad Decisions - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: Oooh i got a prompt, bad decisions at 3am Rhys with whoever you want. That or the electricity went off and it's summer so Rhys decides to tan :D  
> #Nisha/Rhys/Handsome Jack #bad decisions are always made at parties #tequila is everyone's enabler #Nisha is the queen #Rhys is in over his head

A party full of mostly strangers, booze that tasted like juice, sultry lighting and throbbing, grungy synth pop.  Rhys licked his lips and knew he was going to get in trouble.  Whoever the host of this party was - Rhys knew  _who_ , Vaughn (who brought him here) introduced them before it started, but he didn’t care to remember - was the guy who also filled up that big jug in the kitchen with the ambrosial nectar that was inside of Rhys’ cup. Also inside his stomach, on the back of his tongue like the flavor off a hard candy, and in his thoughts telling him that Nisha was, in fact, smiling at  _him._

It was some early hour and she had been taking up the whole loveseat with her long legs stretched out, boots on the worn-and-stained upholstery because no one was going to chide her.  Not for any of that.  She’d come here with Jack (of course) but now Jack was off…somewhere else.  The apartment was pretty small but it was also stuffed full of people; easy to get lost in.  Easy to get people confused in the low lighting. But Rhys could  _swear_  that Nisha wasn’t browsing the crowd for Jack, she was looking straight at Rhys.

Three tequila-and-some-sort-of-fruit drinks to the wind, and Rhys was stupid enough to point at himself and mouth, “Me?” at her.  And when she nodded and beckoned him with a finger, he went like a dog.  Sat in the impossibly small space next to her hip at the very edge of the couch cushion.

“Hi,” Rhys said, throwing on what he was sure was his most debonair smile.

“Hi,” she said back.  Her lips were painted yellow, of all things, and Rhys kept thinking she was the queen.  “You remember me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Rhys said with a scoff, as if anyone who forgot Nisha Kadam was out of their goddamn mind.  “I’m just surprised you remember  _me_.”

“It’s Rhys,” she said, still smiling, lips like honey.  “You were here last time too.  With the little guy. I remember your arm. Looks real cool.”

Rhys picked up his hand and flexed his fingers in flourish, the articulations of the cybernetics whirring gently as he did.  Nisha’s eye flashed at him.  Rhys gave her a suave smile.

“You like that?” he asked.

“I like you,” Nisha said and her smile was like something that could swallow him if he tried to take a taste.  “You wanna ditch?  Come back with us. Betcha you’ll have more fun.”

“Us?”

Two big, warm hands curved over Rhys shoulders, squeezing, and then there was a mouth against his ear.

“Us,” was the affirming, low murmur of Handsome Jack.  Rhys squeaked, spilling his drink on his shirt.  Nisha and Jack both laughed at him.  “C’mon, pretty boy, we’ll make it worth your while.”

Jack’s fingers dragged across the back of his neck before he leaned into the space between Rhys and Nisha to kiss her honey lips, smearing them up and smudging his own mouth with her poison.  

It was a good night for bad decisions.  Rhys licks his lips and they both watched it happen, watching his mouth form the words,

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162494673476) if you want to like/reblog it


	5. Returns Renewed - G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [handsomegoddamnjackass](https://handsomegoddamnjackass.tumblr.com/) : heya just saw your writing prompt thingy, don't know if you're up for it but if you are, could you write something about Brick and Mordecai? (cuz lately im drowning in them)  
> #Brick/Mordecai #grief/mourning #hurt/comfort #birdfriends #boyfriends

Pandora itself was like the long-ago scorch that had scabbed over but someone kept picking at it.  Kept making it bleed.  Living there was more like festering.  And they all were just a stubborn infection that refused to be purged, the Vault Hunters. Sometimes it was nice to live that way, just to spite everyone, spite the ‘better men’ and even spite the planet they called home.  

Mordecai was always a drinker but nowadays he drank like it was a constant vigil to Bloodwing.  Pour one out for your sister, you know?  Maybe like…a reminder that things didn’t have to be different.  Or…no, more like that her memory wouldn’t ever leave him and it kept him stable.  As he ever was, anyway.  No one would really argue that life on Pandora, whatever the excuse, was easier at the bottom of a bottle.

Rakk ale wasn’t really a  _difficult_  thing to come by, but it was still precious and rare and involved harassing Hodunks (which was always a risk) but it was Mordecai’s current poison of choice and his stash was running low.  So, back to The Dust it was with a bandit technical and a sniper rifle.

Only he didn’t make it that far.

“Mordecai!” Brick called to him from the street.  Mordecai backtracked to the balcony and leaned over to see Brick standing there with his arms full of…some lump.  Looked like a rock.  “Open the door for me, will ya?”

“Yeah, yeah, was already doin’ that,” Mordecai sighed.  His hangover was pretty gnarly and nothing was gonna make it better than some hair of the dog.  He slumped and stumbled down the stairs, ignoring Tannis’ blathering into her Echo, and shouldered the door open.  

Brick was already there, taking up the entire doorframe as soon as he could duck his way inside.

“Ay, watch it,” Mordecai grumped at him.  

“Siddown, Mordy, I got you an early Mercenary Day gift,” Brick said brightly, bumping Mordecai over to one of the cots with a nudge of his knee.

“Is it booze?” Mordecai asked, plopping himself down and holding his arms out to take the lump that Brick was offering him.  “Because I think that’s all I really want right now.”

Brick sat across from Mordecai on the opposite bunk (which wailed in protest, struggling under his mass) and sat, hunched forward (so he wouldn’t hit his head on the top bunk) with a grin so big on his face that Mordecai was half-convinced he was about to be eaten.  

“I think you want this one more,” Brick said, nodding with assurance as he gently passed the thing in his arms over to Mordecai’s hands.  It was warm.  Small, actually, so Mordecai didn’t really get why Brick felt like he needed to cradle it so dearly.  It wasn’t until it  _moved,_ wobbling in Mordecai’s hands that he really snapped out of his stupor to realize what it was.

“This isn’t-” Mordecai started but couldn’t finish.

“It is,” Brick said smugly. “It’s  _hers_.”

“How the hell did you find this?” Mordecai asked, pulling the egg close to his belly, as if to shield it from the world with his whole body.  

“Just looked,” Brick said with a smile.  “I mean, I was probably the only one who tried to look.  But I figured, what the hell.  I got some free time to spend tryin’a cheer up my best man.  Figured you could use some good in your life.”

Mordecai tugged his goggles off his face because they weren’t doing anything but steaming up and flooding.  Too much to say.  And there was nothing he  _could_  say, at the same time.

“You still wanna go on that booze run?” Brick asked him.  

“No,” Mordecai said, coughing to clear his throat at the end of it.  “No, no….  I’m….  I’m goin’ back upstairs.”

“I’ll come see ya in a bit.  Gonna go get some pizza,” Brick said and got to his feet.  “Maybe I’ll bring you some.”

“You better, you skaglick,” Mordecai said, his smile so wide he felt like it’d break his teeth.  

“Maybe I’ll feed it to you so you don’t gotta let go of that baby,” Brick added on his way out the door.  Mordecai blushed and said nothing to that, just tottered to his feet very carefully and made sure to power through the haze so he could ascend the steps as steadily as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162498694826) if you want to like/reblog it


	6. Spoiled - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [vetranyx](https://vetranyx.tumblr.com/): rhack modern au w/ sugardaddy jack :^3ccc  
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #sugar daddy #modern au #someone is very spoiled #it's not who you think it is

The kid wears  _heels._ It’s like he’s a friggin’ cat with a bell on his collar: Jack can always tell when Rhys has invaded the house because his heeled shoes go tap-tap-tap on the polished wooden floor while he swans around,  _hunting_.  Because that’s what he does, he hunts for Jack.  Clicks his way through the rooms, looking for wherever Jack might be hiding. Jack’s not hiding from Rhys to avoid him.  He hides just so Rhys has to come looking for him.

“Hey,” Rhys says as soon as he enters the room and catches sight of Jack laying on the bed, reading his book, “Were we going out to lunch today or not?”

“Well, hello to you too, pretty,” Jack says taking in the sight.  Rhys is standing there with his hands on his hips and a pout on his mouth but the rest of him is all gussied up in a collared shirt of white lace that leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination.  Jack can even see the softness of that little belly behind the row of buttons.  Dark blue shorts -  _short_  shorts - and his sandals have heels because of course they do.  Jack’s ring is on Rhys’ middle finger and his lips definitely have some sort of gloss on them.  “Why can’t you dress up this nice for me all the time?”

“Jack, I wear negligees and thongs for you all the time,” Rhys deadpans at him.  “We’re going  _out_  today.”

“Still didn’t find it necessary to cover your nipples completely; I like that in a man,” Jack says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed while Rhys rolls his eyes and blushes, pretending to be angry.  “You sure we’re going out?” Jack asks as he comes in close and snags Rhys around the waist, pulling him close, “cuz I think we might be staying in.”

“What? No, Jack, no,” Rhys whines, pushing at him a little, but not making that much of an honest effort.  What a good boy.  Jack leans in and smacks his lips hungrily before going for his favorite hickey spot on Rhys’ neck.  “Jack I’m  _starving….”_

“I’ll feed you somethin’ good, sweetie,” Jack promises him with his lips against Rhys’ earlobe.  

“You better feed me a four-course dinner at Bacchanalia within the hour or, I swear to god, I will stay home for the next month.”

“You better friggin’ not, I’ll swat your ass black and blue, I know where you live.” Jack threatens right back, still trying to sound sexy about it but Rhys is just laughing.  

“Yeah, I live in your guest house, not that hard a search,” Rhys says while Jack pretends to bite chunks out of his neck.  “Look, can we  _please_  go eat?  I’ve been wanting you to take me there for months already.”

“But, I wanna  _fuck_  you, Rhysie,” Jack whines at him.  He tugs Rhys close and pushes his thigh between Rhys’ leg and reaches into his shorts and….  Jack pulls back to look Rhys in the face and the boy’s just blushing and his eyes are all hooded.  He tongues at the gloss on his lips.  “Oh-hoh-hoh, what is  _this_?” Jack says, rubbing his fingertips around the warm, silicone circumference of the plug that’s nestled up inside of Rhys.

“ _Please_ ,” Rhys says again.  “I’ve being a really good boy, Daddy.  Don’t I deserve a reward?”

Well…yeah.  But Jack deserves sex when his dick is hard enough to carve diamonds.  Rhys’ baby-pout starts failing into a scowl when Jack isn’t answering in the affirmative but is only rubbing eagerly at the plug under Rhys’ panties.  

“If you take me to lunch then I will eat your ass while I jerk you off and pretend like it’s the only thing that I’ve ever wanted to do in my entire life.”

“Sold!” Jack crows gleefully.  He squeezes Rhys’ ass and then slips away to go find his keys, still hard as an iron spike but that’ll solve itself later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162499985936) if you want to like/reblog it


	7. Runneth Over - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: Jack eating out trans Rhys and making him squirt? Your porn is simply wonderful btw.  
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #trans Rhys #squirting #semi-public sex #dirty filthy boys

At least the view was nice.  

Rhys gripped his shaking hands tighter around the balcony’s railing, willing his knees to keep him upright.  At least so he wouldn’t buckle under the pleasure and just collapse on top of Jack.  

Not such an easy feat, keeping on his toes, with Jack’s fingers pushed up inside of him, rubbing at his g-spot like it was going to give him the secrets of the universe.

Opportunity was beautiful this time of night.  The lights glittering beneath Rhys like a galaxy that he was going to tip into if he wasn’t careful.

“Ohhh…oh, god…,” Rhys whimpered, his whole body shuddering and Jack just kissed up the inside of his thigh, guiding himself with teeth and tongue to Rhys’ clit.  

“Mmmnnh,” Jack answered him.  His thumb pulled back the little hood of flesh covering Rhys’ clit so he could wrap his lips around its swollen bud and suckle.

“A-ah!  Jack!”  Rhys’ hips jerked back but there was already a strong arm wrapped around him, caging Rhys where he stood so he couldn’t escape.  Jack dug his blunt nails into the soft meat of Rhys’ ass and kept him still.  “God, it’s too much!”

A protest that fell on deaf ears, for sure.  In fact, Rhys was almost positive that through the inebriation of his pleasure, he heard - he  _felt_  - Jack laughing.  That low, humming, self-satisfied chuckle that meant, ‘Oh no, Handsome Jack does what he wants.’ And was only underscored by Jack curving his fingers acutely against Rhys’ g-spot again, his tongue lapping out along the slick ribbons of Rhys’ labia. 

Rhys planted his forearm against the railing and curled his body forward, pressing his forehead to his arm right as Jack took advantage of the new position to devour Rhys’ clit with his vicious tongue. The ecstasy folded up on itself, suffocating all of Rhys’ senses until there was nothing but Jack, crouched between Rhys’ legs making noises of satisfaction while he pushes Rhys closer and closer to orgasm.

Rhys flailed a little, his fingers smacking against the side of Jack’s head before threading through his hair, gripping, fruitlessly pushing him away.

“I’m gonna come,” Rhys insisted, frantic, “Jack, stop, I’m–!”

Jack didn’t stop.  Rhys shouted.  His moans echoed around the tiny alcove of the balcony (and surely spilled over the edge).  Eyes screwed shut, he didn’t see, but could certainly feel, how all the contractions of his muscles clenched and pushed and forced a  _fountain_  out of himself.  Over and over, soaking Jack’s face, his arm, his clothes.

“Ohhh,” Rhys whimpered when he finally looked down to see Jack looking back up at him.  Licking his lips, breathing in deep, squirming a little to get his dick out of his sodden jeans so he could stroke himself off.  “Fuck,” Rhys added in a murmur.

“Tell me I’m dirty,” Jack growled at him.

“You’re  _nasty_ ,” Rhys said and his knees wobbled (hard) again as he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162529819356) if you want to like/reblog it


	8. Her Due - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [sailorfuckthisshit](https://sailorfuckthisshit.tumblr.com/) : For a BL prompt could you do Jack and Rhys using a double sided dildo together? Possibly with Nisha watching and bossing them around?  
> #Nisha/Rhys/Handsome Jack #voyeurism #silliness and smut simultaneously #(me looking at Nisha) god i wish that were me

“But how is this gonna work out logistically?”

“Uh, it’s gonna work out the way that you  _know_  it’s gonna work out.  Stop thinkin’ logistics and start thinkin’ take your pants off.”

Rhys scowled.  And blushed.  And Jack winked at him, timed perfectly with the shifting of the ice cubes in Nisha’s lowball glass and it all just felt like this was going to end up like some really awkward, incredibly inappropriate cartoon.  Or just a regular old porno.  

Whatever….

“First one nude gets to eat my ass when you’re done with the dildo,” Nisha told them.  Rhys’ pulse started picking up and he fumbled with his buttons right as Jack cried “Whoo-hoo!” and threw his boxers at Rhys’ head, blinding him.

“Fuck yeah!” Jack crowed.  Rhys rolled his eyes behind the veil of dark cotton before flinging it away from himself.  Nisha was grinning at him, chuckling behind her glass of whiskey.

“Don’t worry, Rhys, I’ll give you a nice consolation prize later,” she told him.

“Sure,” Rhys said, blushing down at his toes while he wiggled out of his pants.  “Can it involve your breasts?”

“Only if you leave those cute socks on the whole night.”  Nisha pointed her pinky at Rhys’ feet, where he was still wearing his lavender socks with the grey floral print.  Rhys glowed red to the tips of his ears.

“Okay,” he said, biting down on his smile.

“Rhysie, c’mere.”  Jack smacked a hand down on the bed, the rather ominously long dildo flopping comically in his other hand.  It was hot pink, for god’s sake.

“Yeah, yeah, hang on a sec,” Rhys said, pulling his button-down over his head and tossing it away because he was through fiddling with buttons.  Jack snatched his wrist and tugged him down to the bed and crawled right on top of him, his hungry mouth going straight for Rhys’ lips and tongue.  

“Gonna get this in  _you_  first,” Jack threatened Rhys sweetly as he pawed around for the bottle of lube that was somewhere on the bed.  “And then we’ll really go to town.”

Rhys forced himself not to grip and cling to Jack while he fingered him, if only to make himself a more alluring visual for Nisha (because this was  _her_  night) and just scratched his fingers into the mattress, moaned gently to the ceiling, and let Jack’s dirty talk wash over him until it became so ridiculous that Rhys was laughing instead of sighing.

“Oh my god, no, no, no, no, that’s not even remotely sexy,” Rhys chuckled, still full of Jack’s fingers.  “You can’t say ‘I can’t wait to fuck your asshole with my asshole’ and expect me to take that seriously.”

Even Nisha was curled up in the chair, shaking, with her glass held over her head to keep it from sloshing over.

Jack grinned down at Rhys and didn’t give him an answer, only pressed up the firm silicone of the dildo against him.  Rhys’ expression shifted in comprehension and that was right when Jack retracted his fingers and pressed the toy inside of him.  

Rhys gasped, his hands flying up to scratch at Jack’s shoulders.

“Mnnnhhh,” he sighed as Jack just kept pressing it deeper and deeper. “Gimme some, gimme some,” Rhys mumbled, making a motion at the lube bottle so Jack would wet his fingers with it.  

“Let him do it, Jack,” Nisha said, low and sweet from the corner when Jack flinched away from Rhys reaching for his ass.  “Give Mama a show.”

She could’t see because Jack was facing away from her but, Rhys could see the flush blooming down Jack’s neck to his chest.  He licked his lips and nibbled at Jack’s chin while Jack very obediently let Rhys finger him open.

“You like it,” Rhys teased Jack in a whisper against his ear.

“Do it harder,” Jack growled back, pushing his own hips down to try to get Rhys to be rougher with him.  As if doing it gently would damage his pride.  Rhys smirked and pushed another finger inside, forcing up his whole hand as he worked and letting the sounds of Jack’s grunts and groans sizzle through his nerves all the way to his throbbing cock. 

“You have no idea how good you look like this,” Nisha says.  There’s another chime of her ice as she takes a sip of her drink, and Jack’s tongue flicks between his lips as he rolls his hips a bit.  “Go on, get that dick in your ass, let’s see it.”

Rhys did Jack the favor of taking his hand away, bringing his own knees up towards his shoulders so Jack could grab the dildo and lower himself onto it.  He barely got a moment to enjoy the brief flash of submissive bliss that smeared over Jack’s features before Jack’s lips peeled back to show his smirk and then Rhys was getting  _fucked_  into the mattress.

“Ah!” he cried out and Jack laughed and licked his lips.  Nisha’s ice rattled again and Rhys accepted that Jack was always gonna be on top, even when he really isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162533424606) if you want to like/reblog it


	9. The N7 Commander - G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [spentgladiatornumbertwo](https://spentgladiatornumbertwo.tumblr.com/): i wanna see more content for my girls (janey and athena). any genre is cool.  
> #Athena/Janey Springs #Mass Effect AU #because honestly there should be more crossover in those fandoms

“Haven’t seen you around Omega before.  You out on shore leave?”

There weren’t a lot of Alliance military who went to Omega for  _fun -_ especially not N7 officers - but Janey hadn’t come up with another pickup line that sounded as casual.  The woman in the black and red uniform looked at her with an eyebrow raised; Janey made a quick recovery.  

“Oh, sorry, I’m Springs.  Janey Springs.  Just noticed the logo, is all.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen an N7 on the station, y’know?”

“Commander Athena,” the woman said, nodding.  Janey beamed at her.  “And I’m not here on leave.  I’ve been stationed here for an assignment.  This is just my downtime.”

“What d’ya think of Afterlife, Commander?” Janey asked, gesturing to the club.  Which was dark and strobing.  And loud.  And full of scantily-clad Asari dancing along the catwalks.  Which is what always brought Janey around.

“I think it’s not really my scene,” Athena said, still frowning, her hand around her glass.  Janey took a peek.  Something pale amber with ice.  So…probably a human drink, not an alien cocktail.  “But I don’t have many options.”

“The upper bar isn’t as loud,” Janey suggests.  “The music’s a might more relaxing than the crazy beats they play down here.  Want me to show you the way up? I know a shortcut.”

“Aria’s upstairs,” Athena says.  Janey blinks, a little surprised.  But then again, maybe not so much.  Everyone knows Aria. 

“Oh, don’t be scared, she won’t bother you,” Janey insists.  “She doesn’t care about the lowlifes.  Ah, not that you’re a lowlife! I mean, pff, you’re an N7 that’s like…opposite a lowlife.” Athena raises an eyebrow.  Janey scrambles.   “But, ah, in that case, she probably already know you’re here, eh?  If she wanted to bother you, she’d’a done it already.”

Athena gives a slow blink, her gaze switching from Janey’s optimistic (and blushing) features to the hand she’s holding outstretched for Athena to take.

“Buy you another drink?” Janey offers just to sweeten the deal after the moment stretches on past awkward.

Athena finally manages a smile and gently takes Janey’s hand, getting up from the barstool.   Maybe she holds on a little longer than might be necessary.  Maybe Janey just imagined that.

“What is it you do, Ms. Springs?” Athena asks, leaving her glass behind.  So, she  _will_  be taking Janey up on that drink, then.   _Score_.  Athena’s eyes are gorgeous and when she smiles, she’s  _dazzling_.  Janey bets that the Commander could benchpress her if she felt like it.

“Oh, I run the mechanic team for the city transports,” Janey says, allowing herself to walk close to Athena.  Obviously so she can be heard over the booming music.  “Takes me all over.  Never a dull moment.”

“So you must know a lot about Omega, then, huh?” 

Janey can feel her heartbeat at the back of her tongue.

“Yeah, I’d say so!” she says, still keeping cool.

“Perhaps you might be able to tell me where I might be able to find a nice…well, a  _nicer_  restaurant?  My preferences usually warrant more than varren skewers from a street stall.”

Janey grins and lets herself be bold enough to loop her arm through Athena’s as they take the back door and head up the drearily-lit staircase.

“Ordinarily, I’d say you’d be way outta your league,” Janey says.  “But seein’ as how you’re N7 and all and have the credits and rep to get you in the high places, I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” Athena asks, sounding wary.  She watches Janey like she’s waiting for her to pull a gun.  Janey wonders where Commander Athena’s gun is holstered.  Surely she has one on her.

“That you take me along with you when you go to scope the place out,” Janey says.  She smiles and blushes when Athena raises an eyebrow at her being cheeky.  “Just the one time, that’s all.  Please?”

“Alright,” Athena agrees with a serious nod. “You should leave your contact information with me before I go home tonight.”

Forget the Asari dancers, honestly.  Janey’s only coming back to Afterlife if Commander Athena’s gonna be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162539059506) if you want to like/reblog it


	10. This Is Precisely Why You Don't Make Contracts With Assholes - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: Could you do some rhackothy from your play that song au with Tim trying to take Rhys on a like a normal date then Jack shows up by surprise and ruins everything by being an attention whore?  
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys/Timothy Lawrence #Demon AU #Coffee Shop Date #Coffee Shop Date Rudely Interrupted By A Motherfucker

“Oh my god, it’s been forever.”

Rhys smiles at Timothy who has a little milk foam on his top lip but also has this blissed-out smile spread across his face.

“That good, huh?”  Rhys nudges aside his plain ol’ mocha latte and tugs Timothy’s ceramic coffee cup towards him.  “What is this again?”

“’s called a cortadito,” Timothy say, licking the froth off his lip.  “It’s a Cuban style coffee.  Kept getting cravings for them while during my time in the Hellhole.”

Rhys has the cup in his fingers - pinky out and everything - looking up at Tim with a cautious grin.  

“Yeah, you can have some, go ahead,” Timothy says gently.  

Sharing drinks should was the sort of thing that doesn’t phase Rhys but he can see the little indent in the latte art where Tim took his sip and Rhys delibarately turns the cup so he can put his lips in the exact same spot. He glances up to see if Tim noticed and judging by how washed-out his freckles are from the pinkness in his cheeks….  Rhys blushes back at him and smiles while he takes a taste.

Sharp and sweet, creamy and bitter….

“That’s…really different,” Rhys says, putting the cup down again.  

“Don’t like it?”

“Wait….”  Rhys picks up the cup again.  Timothy laughs.  “I’m deciding.”

“Take all the time you need,” Tim says.  He shifts to lean back in his chair and his sneaker bumps up against Rhys’ toe.  “Yours any good?”

“You can have some if you want,” Rhys says, since Tim so generously let him steal the coffee he’d been craving for years, probably, right out of his hands.  Quite gracefully, too.  He keeps looking at Rhys like watching him try to assess his opinion of the coffee is the loveliest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.  

Rhys can’t quite focus on the flavor; the sip he takes drains a third of the cup.

“Well, lookie, lookie who it is.”

Rhys lifts his head up again and Tim isn’t all smitten-eyed anymore.  He’s scowling at Jack who has appeared at their tableside, looking smug and….  He looks dirty, honestly.  Scratched up and covered in smears of black that might be grease and might be ash but he’s close enough to smell and he smells like an old industrial furnace.  And Jack.  That demon pheromone that underlies everything and has Rhys leaning closer in spite of himself.

“Fancy seeing you pretties here,” Jack goes on to say.  “Coffee date?”

“And where have  _you_  been?” Timothy asks, focusing quite pointedly on a still-mending scar on Jack’s neck.

“Making my own fun,” Jack says.  He grabs the nearest empty chair and drags it (loudly) over to Rhys and Tim’s table, plopping down.  “Hey, Rhys, you got a lil….  Jus’ c’mere, babe.”

Rhys leans towards Jack’s beckoning hand without really comprehending.  The feeling is back right before Jack’s fingers tuck under Rhys’ chin and while it at first seemed that Jack was only gonna smear the lingering foam away, as soon as that Victorious Obedience hits him (eyes flashing, tongue flicking out in hunger) he changes course and goes straight for a kiss. The really-not-appropriate for public sort of kiss.  With tongue and bestial noises of satisfaction.

Rhys comes to quickly and flinches back and knocks Timothy’s coffee all over the table.

“God–ugh….  Hang on,” he grumbles.  Rhys flees from his seat to go fetch like a million napkins.  And also get Tim a new drink.   

“Will you start another, uh…cortadito for me?” Rhys asks, pushing the crumpled bit of cash out of his pocket and pushing it across the counter to the barista, who’s staring at him like she’s trying to decide how to ask him what just happened without getting a complaint to management.   He feels himself go red to the tips of his ears. “You can keep the change,” Rhys says hastily.  He glances over his shoulder and Timothy is diligently swabbing up espresso with a wad of napkins while Jack grins and harasses him.  “And, uh, can I get that to go?” Rhys adds.

“What’s the name on that?” the barista asks, pulling out a sharpie to write on the cup.

“Um. ‘Next Date is My Treat.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162609530806) if you want to like/reblog it


	11. Roulette - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [spentgladiatornumbertwo](https://spentgladiatornumbertwo.tumblr.com/) : fiona/nisha. i need it.  
> #Fiona/Nisha #Flirting With Danger #Making Out #Threats of Violence #The Kind That Make You Horny

“You get one favor.  One.  And if I think it’s stupid, I might kill you instead of granting it so you better think real good about it first, kiddo.”

Fiona digs her teeth into her chapped lips and refuses to look away from those wild, yellow eyes pinning her to the floor.  Dumb luck got her here, really.  And her sharp tongue.  And now that she’s got her boots on the floor, listening to the Sheriff’s spurs chime at her sweetly with every impatient tap of her foot….  Fiona thinks she might be better off just asking if she can leave alive.

Asking for that outright would probably be ‘boring.’  Fiona licks her lips - they’ve been chewed raw - and dares herself.

“I want a kiss,” she says and really enjoys the way the Sheriff’s yellow eyes glint golden.  “From you, that is.”

“You come all the way to my town to kill bandits and kiss the law enforcement,” those painted-purple lips say with a smirk and a flash of white teeth.

“Well, I’m all out of bandits,” Fiona says, gesturing grandly at the window, where beyond lay the pileups of psycho corpses and their blood soaking the dusty tracks of Lynchwood.  

“So it seems,” says Nisha Kadam.  She uncrosses her legs and leans back a little on her desk, no longer posed to spring into attack.  Less of a threat means Fiona’s pulse is settling.  But then….  And Fiona’s heartbeat knocks right back up into her throat.   _Oh, shit…._

“Well come claim your bounty, then, vault hunter,” Nisha purrs at her, her hand reaching out and beckoning Fiona closer.  

Backing out now would be cowardice and therefore a  _mistake_  so Fiona doesn’t give herself time to second-guess herself.  She works her jaw and walks forward like she deserves this and doesn’t think to stop herself from  _crawling_  onto Nisha’s lap before kissing her.  Nisha puts one hand on her hat to keep it from falling off and puts the other on her gun and puts the gun under Fiona’s chin and that brings all these bad decisions to a rather stellar climax.  

Fiona freezes.  Nisha laughs against her lips, open-mouthed, breath like fine whiskey.

“Oh, no, don’t stop now,” she says and scrapes her lips against the rubbed-red edges of Fiona’s mouth.  “C’mon, it was just getting fun.”

“God  _damn_ ,” Fiona mutters and wraps her hands around Nisha’s neck, pressing her thumbs against the arteries but not as hard as she could be before diving right back in.  

Evidently, this was the correct decision because Nisha forgets about trying to keep her hat on and instead uses that hand to slip into Fiona’s back pocket to squeeze her ass and pull her closer.  Her tongue is boozy and sweet and Fiona will probably think about that little detail every night for the rest of her life.

Long as that Jakobs revolver doesn’t get any better acquainted with her anatomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162654090311) if you want to like/reblog it


	12. Good Boy - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [vetranyx](https://vetranyx.tumblr.com):jackothy and dirty talk ;^0  
> #Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence #BDSM #Powerbottom Jack #Blindfold and Gag #Orgasm Denial

“That’s right, c’mere handsome, I’m right here,” Jack coos to Timothy, holding his hand out to meet those shaking fingers.  “There’s a good boy.  This is such a good look for you.  Who would’a thunk it?”  
  
Jack draws Timothy onto the bed, smiling at the way he stumbles a little trying to heave himself up onto the mattress without being able to see.  That mask jack has him in has a blindfold and a gag, which is great because Jack doesn’t need feeble little Timmy breaking character by saying anything stupid.

The blindfold just makes Tim a little frantic.  And Jack likes that.  

“Hold still,” Jack says before clipping the leash to the collar around Timmy’s neck and tugging on it once.  Tim makes a startled noise and pitches forward, bracing his hands on either side of Jack’s hips.  “Yeah, I brought it back,” Jack tells him, smirking around his tongue as he licks his lips.  “Helps remind you who’s in control.”

Behind the gag, Tim lets out a sound that’s like a whine and a moan and Jack just reaches between his naked thighs and strokes kindly at his half-erect cock with his lube-wet fingers, which only makes Tim shudder in response.  

“Promise I’ll be nice this time,” Jack says.  “C’mon, up, time to get to work.”  He reaches to Tim’s hand and wraps his fingers around his wrist, pulling him upwards until Timothy feels out the headboard for himself and grips it.  “That’s right, hold on,” Jack says as Tim places his other hand around the lip of the headboard as well.  “And we don’t let go, right?  Don’t forget.”

Tim  _does_  let go, one hand blindly looking for Jack’s neck to stroke two of his fingers across it; his head tilts one way as if he’s asking a question.  Jack rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I  _know_ already; you don’t gotta keep reminding me.”

Friggin’ safe-signals.  Keeps bringing them up but hasn’t ever used them once.  Just goes to show how good of a lover Jack is, really.  His scowl easily melts into a contented smirk at the self-affirmation while he turns himself onto his hands and knees beneath Timothy’s body.  

 Jack winds the leash around his fist and tugs on it to get Timothy to bring his knees forward, to push his cock right up against Jack’s ass.  

“No hands,” Jack reminds him, heartbeat heavy and excited, thrumming in his neck, his chest.  “It’ll be easy, I loosened my hole real nice for you.  C’mon, boy, get it in.”

Jack tugs again and Timothy whines behind his gag, pushing his face against Jack’s neck while he tries to guide his cock inside of Jack without the use of his hands.  It’s tricky.  

“Yeah, I feel it, babe,” Jack croons at him, rolling his hips a bit.  “I feel that big, nasty dick all up against my ass.  You want it real bad, don’t you, boy? You just can’t wait to get that fatass cock up in daddy’s sluthole, can you?”

Timothy noses up against Jack’s ear and Jack laughs while a shiver rattles its way down his spine.  The leash pulls taut and Timothy curls his hips down and  _shoves_  and Jack gasps.

“Ooh, yeah, good boy, come on,” Jack pants, tugging again in a few sharp jerks.  “C’mon, pound me.  Wreck my insides with that monster cock.  If you can shut me up from fuckin’ me so hard I’ll suck your dick after I come.”  

Jack usually prefers to employ the stick more than the carrot but orgasms are a pretty powerful motivator for Timmy.  Powerful enough to get him to start slamming into Jack like he’s trying to kill him with his dick.

“Oh, yeah!” Jack cries out, his whole body jostled over and over from Timmy’s hips crashing into him, “Fuck, baby, yeah, that’s it.  Oh, god, your cock…your cock is the  _best_ ….  Ungh, yeah, I wanna keep your dick in my ass all day, mnngh!”  Jack pulls that leash tight as he can, feeling the constant puffs of Timmy’s breaths in his ear. 

“Need more,” Jack croaks, reaching beneath himself to get his hand around his erection and stroke himself off.  “Harder, boy, harder.  C’mon, baby…yessss….  Yessssss, oh, fuck, that’s so good…so good…!”

At which point, Jack can only grunt and gasp while the hand gripping the leash braces himself against the bed.  Jack hangs his head and drool slips from his lips while he fists his cock furiously to the sound of Timmy’s cock plunging into his ass.  Jack sputters on his own spit when he comes and collapses face-first into the mattress, shaking apart.  Timmy’s  _still going_  and that just milks another few spurts out of Jack, who has to smack and shove Tim off of him to get him to stop.

Timothy - the idiot - lands on the floor with a pathetic grunt and Jack lets himself flop onto the bed to try and catch his breath.

“Holy hell,” he moans.  The crisp air of the room settles gently on his feverish skin and Jack tries to pull his nerves back together before peeking over the bed at Tim.  Tim who is kneeling there, obediently, head down, cock up, hands in fists by his side.  Jack smirks at the sight.

“There’s my good stud,” he murmurs gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162694561341) if you want to like/reblog it


	13. Fresh Meat - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: You're version of intern Rhys and pre-sequel Jack coming together in possibly a smutty way?  
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #First Impressions #Flirting

“Hellooooo….”  Jack skidded to a halt, backpedaling until those long-long legs were back in view again.  “ _Wow_ ….  You just go on for miles, don’t you, sweetheart?” he muttered to himself.

The breakroom was occupied by a little gaggle of the fresh meat coming in, all precious with their lanyards around their necks that gave them the most basic of security clearance.  A few of them were crowded around the table, but there weren’t enough seats for them all, which is why stringbean over there was able to show off those great assets while he yammered on with his buddies. 

He had one of those posturing-douchebag laughs, with his nose in the air going ‘ha-ha-ha’ as if this was all beneath him but he could socialize with the rabble if that’s what he needed to get a leg up on the competition.  Jack smirked.  What an asshole.  He’d fit right in.

Probably fit right in to Jack’s bed too.  Make the prettiest picture….

Mind made up, Jack slicked his tongue across the front of his teeth  before diverting his path.  He strutted straight up to where Long-Legs was leaning against the doorframe of the breakroom.

“’Scuze me,” Jack said as he squeezed past him, making sure to maneuver it so his chest rubbed up against the kid’s arm as he went past.

“Yeah, su– Sure, no problem.”

Jack didn’t look to see his face but the stutter in his voice communicated Jack’s success.  Got ‘im.

Jack went straight to the coffee machine with a smirk on his face.  The whispers definitely didn’t go unnoticed; Jack turned his body just so he could be within better earshot, still not looking, but could hear telltale murmurs of, ‘Is that who I think it is?’ and, ‘Oh, my god, it’s him.’

Jack filled up his mug then went to leave.  Legs was still in the doorframe, openly staring this time.  Starstruck.  It probably looked better on him than whatever Hyperion-sneer he’d been practicing before Jack showed up.  Jack came close as if to brush past him again.

“Nice arm,” he said casually when he was within conversation range.  “One of ours?”

“Yeah,” the kid said, like a sigh.  There was a smile perking up the corners of his mouth; Jack looked at it twitching like he wanted to lick it off.  Said nothing, just chuckled behind a sip of coffee.  

“Good choice, kiddo.  I dig the color,” Jack told him.  Bright yellow.  Better than all the stupid red and black that was around the place making everything look gaunt and gothic.  “What’s your name?”

“I-i-it’s, uh, it’s Rhys.”  That blush was pretty cute, too.

“Jack,” Jack introduced himself in return. Rhys nodded like he already knew.  Good, Jack was finally breaking out of the codemonkey stigma, rising to the celebrity status he’d been working his ass off for. “Listen, Rhys, was it? I got friends down in cybernetics who have been putting a bug in my ear about the new developments they’re working on.  Was headed that way now; you should tag along.”

“Really?” Rhys said, like an toddler, his eyes all wide and shiny.  Jack smirked at him, jerking his head towards the hallway to indicate, yeah, really.

“Unless you got somewhere better to be,” Jack said, walking away.  The rapid footsteps (skagskin boots, heeled) catching up were enough to say that the best place for Rhys to be right now was right there with Jack.  As it should be.

“Should be careful about letting that much blatant enthusiasm show around here,” Jack advised him.  “You’ll get eaten by the wolves.”

“Right, you’re right,” Rhys said, nodding as he tried to steel himself back into the mold of your typical Hyperion Asshole.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that around me so much,” Jack told him, looking over to where Rhys was peering back at him, curious and cautious.  “I like what I see just fine.”

Jack winked.  Rhys turned red.

“Got any plans for lunch?” Jack asked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162708996601) if you want to like/reblog it


	14. Tall, Dark, and Really Smokin' Hot - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [rhys-thecompanynerd](https://rhys-thecompanynerd.tumblr.com/): Hey :3 I just read one or two or your newest uploads here and they are great! Just wanted to ask if you would be up for either some Axton/Zer0 or some Fiona/Vaughn (seriously, I'm dying bc of them and there's not enough)? Don't really have much of a prompt, I hope that's okay >u< have a nice day!  
> #Axton/Zer0 #Flirting #Crushes #Zer0 uses they/them

“Yeah but what if they don’t want me?“

“Then I’m sure they’ll make a frowny face at you and compose a really nice haiku about how they’re not interested,” Maya says as she checks the scope on the new sniper rifle she won at the slot machine.  “Just go tell ‘em, Axton.  We put our asses on the line too much to just ‘save it for later.’  We all might be dead tomorrow.  Just tell ‘em.”

So ends the heartfelt advice from the one teammate Axton trusts to be emotionally intelligent enough to give him the best counsel while still not mincing words.  Not giving himself any time to overthink or second-guess, Axton wanders out of Moxxi’s with his fists balled at his side.  Head up, feet apart, falling into a march as he rehearses what he’ll say.

Nothing sounds right in his head or muttered under his breath and he’s already down at the shooting range underneath Marcus’ before he knows it, watching Zer0 plink off the squirming, screaming targets with well-placed headshots.

Axton lingers at the entrance and his whole posture sags a little while he takes in the view.  Zer0 is so lithe and nimble.  Frankly speaking, it was their body that snagged Axton’s awareness first.  They cut an elegant and brutal silhouette on the battlefield, slipping in and out of sight but leaving carnage like bomb bursts. The whole seemingly stoic but actually a bit of a goofball thing….  That only made things worse.  Axton went from not being able to take the haiku-speak seriously at all to straining his ear in the midst of their fights to try and hear Zer0′s victory cries over the psycho-yelling and bulletstorms.  

What sealed it was that one time Zer0 came dashing over to Axton to pull him back on his feet and a big, red ‘<3′ flashed over his helmet.  Axton almost tripped and fell on his ass when he finally managed to scramble up with Zer0′s help.  

Then later that night, drifting off, he unintentionally imagined pulling that sleek body right up against his own in that bunk and smooching Zer0′s helmet to maybe get that <3 to come back again.

And then Axton was fucked, basically.

“Is there something wrong?” Zer0 asks, lowering the pistol they’re brandishing to look over their shoulder.  Axton blinks back to reality.  “I thought you were with Maya. Are we leaving soon?”

“Ahhh, no, no, that’s not it,” Axton says, pushing away from the doorframe to come stand at Zer0′s side.  They’re still holding their gun but Axton’s interruption seems to have stalled their attention from target practice.  The psycho tied to one of those industrial metal sheets babbles and splutters and Axton looks up at that impenetrable black helmet, frowning.  

The silence lingers.  Zer0 is waiting for him to speak.  Axton takes a deep breath and sighs it out slowly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says succinctly.  And gives a nod after a few beats as if, yep, that’s exactly the right thing to say.  “Like  _damn_ gorgeous.  And I’m not at all ashamed to admit that I’ve got the hots for you and would totally like to spend my down time making you moan erotic poetry while I pleasure you within an inch of your life.  Mmh-hmm.  That’s it.”

Axton smirks because that was as perfect as he was ever gonna get it.  Doesn’t change the fact that he still feels like his face could fry an egg and his shirt is feeling a little damp around the armpits but, you know what, fuck it.

Zer0, to their credit, looks as taken aback as anyone with their face hidden could.  

“This is…quite sudden,” they say as a ‘…’ flashes over their mask.  “How long have you thought on this?”

“Oh, heh, since Overlook, honestly,” Axton says, rubbing the back of his head a little. 

“Then I have you beat.”

Axton freezes.

“Say what?”

Zer0 giggles.  It’s so fucking charming. 

They pop a cap into the bandit-target’s skull, leaving him dead, and then tuck their gun away.  Zer0 leans into Axton’s space and strokes a single digit up under Axton’s jaw. A winking emoticon pops up and Axton swallows hard, that gloved finger scratching sweetly under his chin.

“I think spending your / downtime making me moan sounds / quite enjoyable,” Zer0 says as they meander away.  Axton might be second-guessing his reality right now but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the very sultry sway of those narrow hips.  He licks his lips and growls playfully under his smirk and goes jogging after Zer0 to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162929715836) if you want to like/reblog it


	15. Fuck Church, Take Me to the Bone Zone - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: For a prompt how about a modern au were Jack and Rhys meet each other at a sex addicts annonymous meeting? Rhys can't be single and Jack is just a total whore. Rhys promised his best friend he'd try, Jack did the same with his brother, they end up making a habit of blowing off the meetings to blow each other?
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #Sex Addiction #Blasphemy probably #Jack is a filthy man #But that's why we love him

This is probably the best dick that Jack has ever had in his mouth ever.  

It’s like…so perfectly shaped and the right size to make him work for it but not so much that when he takes it down his throat the he feels like he might regret boasting about his oral fixation to anyone who will care to listen.  Make no mistake, Rhys is  _fucking_  his mouth.  Like, his hands in Jack’s hair, his pretty pinstripe slacks around his ankles, the hair on his balls tickling Jack’s chin while he uses Jack’s mouth like a fucking glory hole.

Jack is so hard right now, he might cream his jeans.  Jack kinda  _wants_  to cream his jeans because that’s nasty and depraved and, boy, is he both of those.  And Jack  _likes_  being both of those.  

“Holy shit, Jack, your mouth,” Rhys is gasping, his hips moving like he can’t even control them but his hands are all stroke-stroke-stroking through Jack’s hair, only gripping at his skull when he really needs to hold on.  Jack just kneels there and breathes through his nose and Rhys whines, “it’s in your  _throat_ , I’m fucking your  _throat,_ f-fuck….”

Must be Rhys’ first time getting deep-throated.  Jack can level with the best of ‘em.  God, he should’ve done porn when he was younger….  He would’ve made such a killing.  

Jack unzips his pants but only rubs his cock through his boxers because the more he thinks about it, the more appealing he finds the nymphomaniacal shame of messing his shorts like he’s some deviant.  Who’s he kidding, Jack is a deviant: he’s sucking off the cute boy from the sex addicts anonymous meeting in a prayer room at a  _church_  for god’s sake.  

If they’re caught, they could definitely get arrested.  Tell that to Jack’s dick; not like anything’s stopping him now.  

“Oh, god, I’m gonna come, Jack, Jack, stop, I’m gonna–!”

Jack’s not stopping and when Rhys makes a weak sound and his ass twitches under Jack’s steadying grip, Jack’s already coating the inside of his boxers while Rhys comes down his throat.  Jack moans and hums and feels his face flush feverish, all the way to his ears while he gulps down every drop Rhys gives him.  Those fingertips combing so sweetly through his hair….  What a cutie.  Jack made a good choice. 

He buttons his pants back up, feeling soiled and gross but that’s its own reward.  He stands and Rhys leans back against the wall, trying to catch a breath.  He’s all red, too.  They match.

“I think, uh,” Rhys coughs and it turns into a dazed sort of chuckle, “I think I might have to turn in my 30-day chip now, heheh….”

“Wow, kiddo, 30 days?” Jack says.  He flicks his tongue over his lower lip and Rhys’ eyes follow like he can’t even help it.  “I think my record was seven.”

“Maybe this isn’t the program for you, huh?”

“Obviously it is,” Jack scoffs and lets his eyes sweep up and down over Rhys’ body.  He’s still half-naked with his pants around his nice shoes.  Jack smirks.  Rhys swallows hard and bends over to dress himself again.  “Guess I’ll see you next week, kiddo.”

There’s no answer as Jack turns and leaves and maybe Rhys is figuring out how to say this won’t happen again or maybe he’s making a breakable promise to himself to hold out and next week will be different.

Truth is that next week comes around and Jack finds Rhys in the prayer room at the back of the church wearing a thong under those nice pressed slacks like a fucking invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/162965215816) if you want to like/reblog it


	16. The Minnesota Shrike - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [ssealdog](https://ssealdog.tumblr.com/): for the borderlands prompts, jack and angel, and fishing?? in any sense of the word :~)  
> #Serial Killer AU #Hannibal AU #If you haven't seen the TV show this probably won't be interesting to you

“Here.”

Angel looks up from her book as her dad slides back into the seat across from her, handing a bottle of coke to her.

“Thanks,” she says, gently, taking the proffered soda.  It’s already been opened.  She takes a sip and watches him as he flips open his little notebook and scribbles on the page.  

Angel’s heart beats and throbs its way up from her chest to the bottom of her throat.  It’s hard to breathe around just how hard it’s rocking around behind her bones.  She tries, though.  Takes a weak sip of soda and closes the bottle, closing her eyes in an effort to get her pulse to calm.

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  The world disappears around her and even though she can still feel the heat of her dad’s knee close to hers, through her jeans, it’s easy to focus on nothing but the sound of the train rolling over the tracks.  Hartford to White River Junction.  The autumn outside is showing its burning colors as one last hurrah before the winter comes.

A firm, warm hand wraps around her knee and Angel jolts back to attention.  Her dad smiles kindly at her and rips the page out of his notebook, pinching a fold in it at the corner and passing it off.  

Angel takes the paper and puts it against the open pages of her book.

_Car Two.  10-A.  She’s alone so you shouldn’t have any problems._

Angel swallows hard and breathes deep again, hoping it will steady her, smother the racket in her veins.  She folds up the paper methodically, smaller and smaller and smaller, in perfect halves, before she deposits it into her dad’s outstretched hand.  

She catches his eye.  Still smiling at her, calmly.  Proud.  Angel smiles back.

“I love you,” he says to her.  It puts that hot, bubbling fear back in Angel’s stomach but she lets her smile linger, lets it soften her eyes, and the blood behind his words fades away.  Nothing but that adoration left in his gaze.

“Love you too, Dad,” she says.  Angel stands, takes her book, takes her coke, and leans over the seat to hug him.  He wraps an arm around her back and squeezes her close just for a moment.  He slips the little tic-tac box full of roofies in her jacket pocket and gives a satisfied sigh before patting her on the back.

“Don’t be too long,” he says and pulls out his tablet. 

Angel side-steps out of their row and makes her way down the center aisle of the train.  Car two.  Seat 10-A.  And whatever poor, innocent girl is to be sacrificed to the bloodthirst of Angel’s father.  

She’s done this before.  Angel knows how to play the lure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167064206606) if you want to like/reblog it


	17. Double Your Fun - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: your squirting fic just about killed me in the best way. Would you consider doing some Rhackothy double penetration with trans Rhys?
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys/Timothy Lawrence #Trans Rhys #Double Penetration #Wow Rhys Your Mom Lets You Have TWO Jack Dicks?

“Oh, god, more,” Rhys sighs, the words sprinkled between the sweet, needy kisses he presses all over Jack’s cheeks, his lips, his chin, “please, more, you promised.”

“That’s your cue, Timmy,” Jack says, hooking his chin over Rhys’ shoulder to make eye contact with Tim, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed tenting his pants and trying very hard to keep his hands to himself.  He’s not meeting Jack’s eyes but that’s mostly because he’s glued to watching Rhys’ hips roll down onto Jack’s cock.

“Oh,” Tim says.  A pearly bead of cum squeezes out of Rhys’ pussy and drips down Jack’s dick.  Tim pulls his lips closed and swallows back the flood of saliva that welled up at the sight.  “Right.  Um.  Wh-Where…where would you like me?”

“With your dick inside my hot PA, where do you think?”

“Here.”  Rhys looks over his shoulder and reaches behind himself to pull at his cheek, rubbing the tip of his finger against his asshole.  “Right here, Tim.  Please.”

Rhys is so sweet.  He’s always been sweet to Timothy which stoked that big ol’ crush that ignited in the soft, safe parts of Tim’s heart.  But, you know, now that he’s in front of Tim, stuffed to the brim with Jack’s throbbing hard-on and asking Tim to top him off….  

Well, he’s still sweet but he’s also probably going to make Tim have a dick aneurysm, the way things are going.

“ _Please,”_ Rhys repeats, reminding Tim that the opportunity is going to pass him by if he doesn’t get a move on.  He watches Rhys roll his hips impatiently, Jack grunting and cussing under his breath while he gives a few greedy, shallow thrusts to sate his need.  “I wanna come with you both inside.”

“Just….  You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you,” Tim says as he shifts forward on his knees and pulls his erection from his boxers.   Jack picks up the bottle of lube and slaps it into Timothy’s hand when he reaches for it.  

“He’ll be fine,” Jack says with a laugh.  “Rhysie’s a little butt bandit, aren’tcha?”

“Jaaackk,” Rhys whines and mashes his face against Jack’s shoulder in embarrassment.  Timothy smiles just a little.  More because Rhys’ reaction is cute than the stupid joke Jack made at Rhys’ expense.  He wets his fingers with lube and strokes one, then two in and out of Rhys, loosening him up.  Helps that with every push in, Rhys rolls his hips back.  Every sigh he makes is almost a secret as he breathes them out against Jack’s throat, but Timothy listens for them, watching to see how Rhys’ shoulders tense in jolts of pleasure then relax again.  

Jack’s suspiciously quiet but when Timothy refocuses - distracted by the arousing and melodious loveliness of Rhys’ moaning - he realizes that Jack’s actually just occupying himself by murmuring a litany of dirty-talk into Rhys’ ear.  

“Please,  _please_ ,” Rhys whines.  “Tim!”

Timothy wraps a sticky hand around Rhys’ hip, covering Jack’s fingers, and guides his dick inside of Rhys.  There’s a cursing, panting chorus of words from them all.  And it’s so distinctly erotic and alien how Tim can  _feel_  Jack’s dick against his own through that seemingly thin boundary of Rhys’ flesh.  Then his balls brush up against Jack’s and Rhys clenches down on them both. 

“Hang on, hang on, hold still, fuck,” Tim bites out in a panic.

“Take your time; we got all night, don’t we, Rhysie?” Jack says, smirking against Rhys’ open, drooling lips.  Rhys does nothing but sigh and smile while Tim bullies his orgasm back down, getting a better handhold so he can pleasure Rhys how he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167065118927) if you want to like/reblog it


	18. Echoes of What Was - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [thewritingkorner](https://thewritingkorner.tumblr.com/): Would you mind doing Siren! Rhys and Jack. Wherein Jack is a manipulative bastard and Rhys is kinda like an Angel replacement? Thank you.
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #Siren!Rhys #Unhealthy Relationship #Angst #Manipulation

“Sir?”

There’s a sharp silence as everyone in the vicinity clams up.  Jack locks eyes with the woman who interrupted him.  Interrupted  _Handsome Jack_  when he was in the midst of a sentence.  People are already backing away, expecting bullets to fly and blood on the floors.  But Jack recognizes this woman.  Only because she’s wearing the characteristic bright blue and silver badge on the lanyard around her neck.  

She looks him straight in the eyes - though her hands are shaking where she wrings them together - and nods her head ever so slightly.  

“Yeah, I’ll get back to you on that,” Jack says to the whatever-project manager he was talking to.  And he leaves.  

Fast travel stations make things convenient.  Jack warps straight to the towertop of Thousand Cuts.  It’s still serving its original purpose, though its original occupant is no longer residing.  No use destroying the place out of grief when it can serve Jack just as well as it did before.  He was tempted, though.

The password hasn’t changed.  A memorial to Angel more than a parallel to her successor.  Jack speaks it and takes the elevator down. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack roars into the the complete blackness of the room.  It feels close, the dark.  Even his voice doesn’t echo.  “This game isn’t that funny anymore, Rhysie.”

“Gets me what I want, doesn’t it?”

Jack takes a slow breath, his skull swimming with a scalding rage.  

“Turn the fucking lights on, Rhys,” he says.  The wide room illuminates in a blink.  Rhys is where he always is, suspended in the central chamber.  Jack squints into the bright, momentarily blinded, though he walks towards the middle of the room as surely as ever.  “You done?”

“Well, you’re here now,” Rhys drawls, looking down at Jack with the sort of placid contempt that Jack thinks about before he sleeps at night.  Thinks about bitchslapping it off of that smug little face.  Rhys’ watches Jack - with his one eye - like he’d spit on him, given the opportunity.  “So I suppose I am.”

“You keep pulling this shit, boy, I’ll take your arm next,” Jack tells Rhys in a soft, sincere promise.  

“Oh, would you?” Rhys asks, all saccharine.  He floats downwards, suspended by the energetic tendrils of eridium, and comes close to the glass, pressing both hands to the walls of the tube that holds him.  “Your  _staff_  haven’t been listening to me.”

“So you decided to throw a tantrum?”  Jack lifts his own hand and touches it against the place where Rhys has pressed his fingertips.  

“I haven’t tried to send a blackout all the way to Opportunity,” Rhys mentions casually.  Jack bares his teeth at him.  Hasn’t tried but he’s definitely thought about it.

“Rhys,” Jack says softly.  For a split second - before the shutters of distrust and doubt fall once again - there’s a quiet, lonely hunger in Rhys’ eye.  Jack sees it in a flash and traces his fingers gently over the bulletproof glass, towards Rhys’ face, down the curve of his cheek.  “Just a little longer.  The more you fight, the longer I have to keep you locked up here, you know that, don’t you, kiddo?”

“Please.  I’m never leaving this place,” Rhys answers, past the point of tears.  His words are bitter and ashen and Jack can practically taste them. He doesn’t try to deny it.  

“If I stay for an hour, will you be good and do what I told you?” Jack bargains.  Rhys laughs - sharp and hateful - and turns away from the glass so he can pick up the vault key.  Jack lets a smile lift the corner of his mouth while the tattoos on Rhys’ arm and chest glow like neon.  “There’s my good boy,” Jack says, sighing in satisfaction.  

He sits down next to the chamber and watches Rhys’ shoulders shivering as he curls around the vault key, that sassy little mouth gone blessedly silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167099889997) if you want to like/reblog it


	19. Who's A Bitch?  That's Right. - M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: Okay rabdom though I've had for a while so Jack records him and Rhys having sex and the dirty talk makes it potentiality extra embarrassing. Anyway somehow the recording gets out around Helios and Rhys shows up at work one day and everybody is snickering behind his back making bad 'daddy' jokes and when Rhys figures put w what's up he is extremely pissed at Jack bc he promised he deleted the video and just add on whatever ideas you have from there.
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #It's Payback. #Payback's a Bitch. #Rhys' Middle Name is Payback

Rhys never believed himself capable of violence.  Though he can feel the germinating seed of it rooting in his heart as he stretches strings of code through the ECHONet.  There are still people murmuring behind their shabby cubicle walls as he sets the counters and runs the numbers to Vaughn.  Vaughn, who tabulates in a little side product and ends up sending back a rather generous number to him: the total value of every download Rhys is apparently worth.

Rhys scribbles a thank you note to Vaughn, compresses the reported stats into a zip file and marches with his head held high as ever to Handsome Jack’s office.  

“I want every cent,” Rhys tells him, slapping the copy of the figures onto Jack’s screen with a flick of his hand.  “I don’t care where from, but I want every. god. damn. cent.”

Jack pulls his lips back so Rhys can see him run his tongue across his teeth. He looks at the numbers and there’s a laugh forming at the corner of his mouth Rhys can feel his nose twitching; it’s so hard to not sneer.  His cheeks are blush-scorched to his ears.

“If you’re going to sell my sex, then I expect to get paid for whatever I whore out,” Rhys says.  And Jack  _does_  laugh but then taps something away on his computer and Rhys receives a ping that a balance worth a year’s salary has hit his checking account.  He acknowledges it and flicks it away.  

He doesn’t say ‘thank you’ because he’s got no one to thank for himself this time. 

Jack does say, “Get that skinny ass back in my lap for lunch,” as Rhys heel-turns and stalks out of the office.  

Rhys takes the rest of the day off, goes straight to Helios’ shopping district and buys himself a crisp-cut suit in black with teal accents and gold cufflinks.  New shoes - black velvet devour slippers - and cashmere socks and a tube of lipstick in Fuck You Red.

Not that he’ll ever wear it.  But he does get dressed in his regalia, and leaves the top buttons of his pale gold shirt open to show off his tattoos and struts through Helios and the laughter is bitten through.  It’s absent under the click of his heels and everyone is still staring but now they won’t let out a whisper.  

Rhys goes back to his cubicle.  Of course, there’s a disciplinary note left at his desk.  He didn’t  _ask_  for the day off, after all.  Rhys pops open the tube of lipstick.

_Please refer all complaints to management,_ he writes.  And then draws a cute little heart underneath it next to Handsome Jack’s ECHOcom frequency. 

He lets the paper flutter out of his hand and onto Henderson’s desk and then just leaves again because it’s lunchtime and Rhys evidently has an engagement with the company’s CEO and his dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167212800267) if you want to like/reblog it


	20. The Strength Arcana - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: A moment shared between Krieg and Maya?
> 
> #Krieg/Maya #As Platonic or Romantic as You Like #Suicidal Thoughts #Everyone on Pandora Has Depression

Sunset is an orange and red scratch over the sky.  Maya puts herself as close to it as possible.  Sanctuary floats over the lands of Pandora and Maya looks out over the sprawl of it with her SMG tucked comfortably in her lap.  It’s beautiful and terrible and, this far away from the center of town, it’s almost quiet.  

And then there’s that guy.  

He’s quiet, too.  At the moment.  A few yards down, perched on a bit of has-been sidewalk that’s only holding on by a prayer and a rusted strand of rebar. Krieg’s feet dangle listlessly over nothing and he sits with his buzz axe nowhere in sight.

Maya frowns.

“You alright down there, big guy?” she calls to him.  

Krieg picks up his head and turns towards her voice.  The one eye she can see stares.  And blinks.  

“All’s well that ends…. It all ends!”

It’s difficult trying to parse the words that Krieg has to offer. The truly untranslatable nonsense mostly comes out amidst the bloodiness of battle.    

Maya stands up and drops down a few platforms from her perch and comes to sit on a little jutting bit of uprooted foundation.  She’s closer to Krieg now, but behind him, a safe distance away from the edge.  He looks like he’s about to go tumbling off, after all.  Maya doesn’t fancy herself a good flier.

“You’re not careful, you’re gonna become best friends with gravity,” Maya warns him with a sideways smile on her lips and her eyes sharp.  Her fingers flex, ready to phaselock, catch him if he falls.  “But only for a short bit of time.”

Krieg turns back to look down over the precipice of his own knees.  

“How ‘bout you come over here?” Maya says.  She reaches over and pats the stack of crates backed up against the nearby torn-through chainlink fence.  “That way I don’t gotta worry about you taking a dive.”

“What a wonderful phrase,” is the answer she gets in a mask-muffled mutter.  But Krieg does stand and lumber his way over to her before dropping onto one of the crates with a thud.  Maya nods and pulls her gun back into her lap. 

“You weren’t  _thinking_  about jumping, were you?” Maya suddenly asks him.  

The fact that even after a short period of silence, Krieg says nothing (though he does sigh and grunt and make these unknowable gnashing noises) has Maya turning to frown at him. 

“Really?” she asks.

“Nnghhngh…,” Krieg grunts, “I’ve fallen off logs more easily!”

Maya sucks in a breath and shoves it out again.  She can make guesses but she doesn’t understand, ultimately.  But there’s nothing much easier than just going with your gut.

“This isn’t the place to foster healing,” she says.  “All Pandora wants to do is kick your ass in the worst way to get you to keep going.  It’s all spite and pain and you hit the finish line with nothing left but your guns.  Revenge feels nice cuz you feel like you win but it doesn’t actually make the hurt you went through go away.”

He’s looking at her.  She gazes out towards the swallowing blue of the nighttime and its many stars beginning to show.  

“I’ll show you mine if you show me your ugly tooth-feelings,” Krieg says.  Maya smiles and nods her head towards the far, faraway horizon. 

“I was once a goddess and a fool to be used by men who thought they were holy,” she says.  “People call you a psycho but you haven’t lied to me once.  You’re a better man than they ever were.”

Krieg makes another unintelligible noise that might be comprehension and might be frustration.  He fiddles with his large hands and wrings his fingers until his knuckles pop.

“You are still a constellation of bloodspecks and blue magic,” he grits out, halting between syllables rushing.  “Long live your wonderful!”

“Back atcha, big guy,” Maya says.  She smiles at him and she has no fucking clue if he’s smiling back but something in his eye looks relieved.  At peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167248924369) if you want to like/reblog it


	21. The Dad Next Door - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: For a prompt how about some rhack with Rhys visiting his parents' new house while on break from college and the hot dad next door won't stop hitting on him leaving Rhys creeped out but oddly aroused.
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #Modern AU #Flirting #Awkward Come-Ons #Rhys Just Wanted Cake #Jack wants the Cake tho if u kno what i mean

Their backyards kinda bump up against one another and there are no fences to divide them.  

“The daughter - Angel? - she’s a sweetie,” Rhys’ mom had told him.  “She’s a senior at the high school over there on Madison Avenue.  That cake on the counter? She made that.  Said she was happy to finally have neighbors again because she didn’t know what to do with all of the food she’s been baking.”

Occupational hazard of being a stress baker, Rhys supposes as he pushes an oversized pinch of cake into his mouth.  Mmm…red velvet.  

Rhys cuts himself an entire slice and takes bites while he Yelps nearby specialty shops, looking for cafes or bakeries in the area.  It’s not exactly payment for services rendered but definitely an expression of gratitude and an incentive to maybe continue to bring by some more treats.  Because that cake is now the light of Rhys’ life.

He swings by this nearby pastry shop that has a French name he can barely pronounce and picks up a gift certificate for Angel.  Then just walks through their connected backyards and swings around to the front door.

But the talented gourmand girl doesn’t answer the door.  Her dad does.

“Who the hell are you, stringbean?” he asks.  Rhys snaps his mouth closed and adjusts his approach.  

“Hi, I’m Rhys, I’m the neighbor’s kid,” he says with his most winning smile, hand extending under an unimpressed stare.  “Just wanted to drop by and introduce myself.  And thank Angel for the cake; it was incredible.”

The man grabs Rhys’ hand and shakes it.  He’s got one of those unnecessarily strong grips meant to say, ‘I am above you and both of us know it.’  Rhys just smiles and shakes.  

“Jack,” the man says.  His eyes sweep up and down Rhys’ body; Rhys double-takes a little and goes to take his hand back.  Jack holds on to him.  “College kid, right?”

“Marketing major,” Rhys confirms. He gently pries his hand away from Jack’s grip.  “A-Anyway, I brought a little thank you for Angel.  I’d be very appreciative if you’d pass it along for me.”  He fishes the little gift card out of his pocket and offers it to Jack.

But Jack just shakes his head and closes his fingers over Rhys’, pushing his hand back towards his chest.  

“You hang onto that for now, Long Legs,” Jack says.  There’s a sly smirk on his lips.  He hasn’t let go yet.  “How about you drop by for dinner tomorrow night, hm?  Give it to her yourself.  Could be a little welcome to the neighborhood.  I’ll get Angel to make you more of that cake, yeah?  Sound like fun?”

 Jack’s thumb strokes against Rhys’ knuckles before he retracts his hand.  Rhys swallows hard and feels his face flush. 

“Uh.”

Jack folds his arms, looking more unimpressed by the second.  Then the does the up-down look over Rhys again, and the smile comes back, just a bit, at the corner of his mouth.

“You like Chinese?  I was thinking of ordering some takeout from Din Tai Fung,” Jack goes on to say.  “How’s 6:30?  Just bring your little thank-you and that pretty face and we’ll make a night of it.”

Rhys swallows.  He slowly returns the gift card to his pocket, heart thudding in his chest.  

“Angel  _will_  be there, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, kid, I’m always a gentleman on the first date.”

“Date?”

“Whatever.  You game or not?”

Rhys grips own hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over his palm.

“Ah, sure.  See you then, sir,” he says gently, trying on a smile.

“Mmh, ‘Sir.’  I like it.  See ya, Rhysie.”   And he winks and shuts the door behind him, leaving Rhys to walk dazedly back home and wonder what the hell he just got himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167284489936) if you want to like/reblog it


	22. Into the Mists - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from [vetranyx](https://vetranyx.tumblr.com/): I WANT TINY TINA'S DLC BUT AS a fantasy au B^) with jack as the ~*~*illustrious handsome sorcerer*~*~ and rhys as,,,, rhys lmao. tbh i have no idea what u could do for this but have fun yo
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #Tiny Tina DLC AU #Fantasy AU #Manipulation and Plots

[(This fill has theme music.)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FpqnMkUcTmys&t=ZWI3YTNiOGMwYzk5MTY2YTJmNGJhYTVmZmNmMzVkYjc3MTFlMGMwYyxzZTdESmFsUg%3D%3D&b=t%3AZeZxmXhZ7iHFc7hxj5LjjQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Frednaelo.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167319540382&m=1)

* * *

The material is a bone china that has been sanded smooth and glazed to a glittering sheen.  Infused with a Spell of Will so that with every unconscious thought that Rhys telegraphs into it, the arm moves.  As natural as if he were born with it.  The Sorcerer looks upon his work and grins with a wolfish satisfaction. 

“You make a cute little doll,” he says as Rhys sits up from the altar and explores.  He bends his arm this way and that, turning the ball-joint of his wrist and testing the curl of every shining white finger.  The joints glow a preternatural gold whenever they flex.  

“It’s beautiful,” Rhys awes. 

“Damn right it is,” the Sorcerer agrees as the blood on his hands evaporates in a fine mist.  “There’s no one in any dimension who can do what I do, babe.”

“I’m just so speechless,” Rhys says, evidently not as speechless as he claims.  “Thank you.  This is such a wonderful gift.”

“Oh, boy,” the Sorcerer says, turning back around to peer at Rhys beneath the brim of his hat, “that’s no gift, little doll.  That’s a favor.”  The dumb, thrilling smile slowly withers on Rhys’ lips.  His eyes lose a little of their sparkle.  He clutches his pretty new hand to his chest like he’s can’t bear the thought of parting with it.   At least he understands what’s at stake now.

“How can I repay you?” Rhys asks.

“Atta boy,” the Sorcerer says, his voice luscious with satisfaction.  He draws close again and strokes one long finger under Rhys’ chin, scratching gently.  “You’re gonna go home to that pathetic little village.  You’re gonna watch them.  Keep an eye on the ones who would cause problems for me.”  The Sorcerer runs his finger down Rhys’ neck, along the curve of his shoulder and his pretty porcelain arm.  “And every night in your dreams, you’re gonna come right back here, right back to me and whisper every little teeny tiny thing into my ear.”

Rhys puts his hands in his lap, taking deep breath and swallowing down whatever fear has flooded the back of his throat. 

“You got it, crumpet?” the Sorcerer says with all the sweetness of a mouthful of nettles.

“I understand,” Rhys agrees softly.  “It’s a fair price.”

“Of course it is,” the Sorcerer agrees.

“But,” Rhys hesitates, lifting those soft brown eyes, “there’s no way that they’ll trust me.  Not if I come back with this arm; the mark of your magic is unmistakable.  They’ll know that I’m in your favor.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, pumpkin, I already thought of that.”  

He lashes out and snags Rhys by the neck, pressing the spell into him as he squeezes down on Rhys’ windpipe.  When Rhys falls slack, the Sorcerer lets him slump onto the altar again.  

“Good dose of amnesia will fix anything,” the Sorcerer says cheerfully to himself.  “Oh, and, for good measure….”

He lifts up the gleaming blue marble spun from glass and a Spying Spell.  It floats lazily in the air, awaiting the moment when it will find a nest in Rhys’ newly vacated eye socket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167319540382) if you want to like/reblog it


	23. Look, Don't Touch - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an anonymous asker: So dumb prompt, modern au with Jack as a mob boss or some sort of shady rich businessman. Axton works muscle jobs and one night Jack sends him to guard his husband(Rhys) while out of town and Rhys proceeds to turn up his slut game to 11. Smut would be cool if it goes that way.
> 
> #Axton/Rhys #Sort Of #Masturbation #Voyeurism

The pool probably cost two years of Axton’s paychecks.  It’s got a waterfall.  Rich people love to put fucking waterfalls in their pools.  There’s a grotto that you can only get to by diving (or going through some secret door in the mansion). One of those infinity edges that turns from water to sky.  And a bunch of other peripheral shit like the fully stocked, incredibly sleek looking bar where Axton is sitting and  _not_  drinking because that’s supposedly what got the last guard tossed out on his ass. 

Axton had his own theories about what lead to that particular pink slip.  Sneak a sip of the Pasión Azteca, sure.  That’s enough to get any boss pissed off at you.  But, well….

Honestly, as Axton sits on the elegantly sculpted barstool and watches the bossman’s honey lean over the lip of the shallow-end and fingerfuck himself, he thinks that maybe the last guy probably sampled more than just the luxury tequila.  There’s rumors for a reason.

Alright, well, it’s been a grand total of two hours of Axton’s life playing bodyguard to Rhys and the guy’s just over there in his pool with his little speedo pulled down around his thighs and two fingers in his ass.  Moaning like he’s the star of his own porno.  Axton squints his eyes and presses his lips together a little more firmly.  Guess that’s one way to enjoy a pleasant summer evening.

“Oh, fuck,” Rhys sighs out and it echoes because the patio is completely devoid of anyone except Axton, who can’t help but feel like Masturbation Voyeur isn’t really a job title that he can add to his résumé.  There’s too niche a market for it.  Though it’s doing wonders for Axton’s dick right now.

Past surveys trended towards liking every kind of body on his own body long as they were happy to be there.  And….  And, well, the slope of Rhys’ back in the rather bewitching mood lighting of the pool.  His fingers push and press and twist inside of himself and Axton’s still wondering where the hell he produced that little bottle of lube that’s sitting on the poolside.  Was it there all along?  Axton has no clue. 

Yeah, all of his money is on the string of very competent past body-guards getting an eyeful and deciding that obviously this sort of display was meant to seduce them.  Axton can sympathize.  He squeezes his dick through his pants and doesn’t take his eyes off of Rhys and his rolling hips for a second.   Axton is certainly tempted but he’s not about to let his dick walk off with his brain.  

He’s not an object of desire here, he’s a prop.  Maybe not even that; Axton might just be furniture to Rhys, part of the setting.

Rhys whimpers and moans and shudders and when he goes quiet, his fingers pull out and he sighs, tugging his skimpy little bathing suit all the way off.  It floats forgotten in the water while Rhys just pillows his arms on the side of the pool and rests there, floating in his afterglow.

Axton knows better than to just cream his shorts here at work so he folds his arms over his chest and just breathes deep, dick twitching against his thigh.  Well, if this was a test or something, Axton hopes that his self-control helped him pass.  If not for the fantastic salary, then perhaps for the chance to bear witness to that magnificence again.  He’ll be thinking about it later, at home, but a repeat live performance would just be a bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167499614053) if you want to like/reblog it


	24. All In Your Head - E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from an anonymous asker: Kinda nasty prompt? Rhack eyesocket fucking but like, Rhys is drugged up and into it
> 
> #Handsome Jack/Rhys #Skullfucking #Drugged Sex #Eveything's Consensual I Promise

Jack’s hands are big and warm and Rhys holds them against his face and loves them.  He loves every rough callous against his cheek and the the scratch of Jack’s nails against his jaw and the salt of his palm when Rhys turns his head to kiss him.  

“Gross, babe, you drooled on me.”

Jack laughs, sweet and ringing in Rhys’ ears and Rhys laughs too when Jack smears spit across Rhys’ forehead.

“Hold still.”

Rhys sits on his heels and breathes through wet, parted lips while Jack strokes his thumb against his cheek.  There’s a too-sweet sharpness sitting thickly at the back of Rhys’ mouth, slipping down his throat while he just lingers in Jack’s hands.  He swallows and smacks his lips.  Jack sweeps his thumb gently along the inside of Rhys’ eye socket.  

“Ah-ouch,” Rhys flinches.

“Still hurts?  Here, open up.”

Rhys lets his tongue fall out of his mouth and closes his lips around Jack’s fingers when they press under his tongue. 

“Don’t swallow, let it melt.  I said  _don’t_  swallow, you idiot.  Ah, whatever….”

Rhys sucks on Jack’s fingers until he pulls them out.  More spit gets wiped off on him, in his hair.  

It’s so warm.  Rhys sighs and leans into Jack’s hand where it cups his face and licks his lips.  His hands sweep restlessly over his thighs, his chest, his neck.  

“I feel so soft,” Rhys mumbles over the gentle sound of Jack pulling his zipper down.  

“Yeah, you do, babe.  Keep still for me.”

Rhys lets his head be tilted back and only makes small sounds as Jack presses the head of his cock into Rhys’ skull. 

“Ohh…,” Rhys whimpers as Jack gets those big hands behind his skull and just pulls him closer.  There’s not far that he can go, but Jack doesn’t seem to mind.  He rolls his hips and digs his blunted nails into Rhys’ scalp. 

“Mnnh, yeah….  Doesn’t hurt a bit, does it, Rhysie?  You like it, don’t you?”

Rhys coughs a little on his over-saturated tongue.  Jack fucks into him and there’s too much of a dizzy dream smeared over Rhys’ thoughts to give Jack’s question a real thought.

So he just breathes deep and says,

“Yeah…. Yeah, ‘s good….”

“Yeah, you’d be happy no matter what hole I fucked, wouldn’t you?”

Rhys can’t figure out what to do with his own tongue or why it feels so soft and slick against his cheeks or why his whole mouth tastes like blood.  Jack stops talking and Rhys tries to look up at him with his one eye but can’t get a good angle.  

He hooks one limp finger through Jack’s belt loop and wraps his hand around his own dick to stroke it.  

“Can I come?” Rhys remembers to ask.  His words are shaken from his lips, interrupted by Jack’s thrusting. 

“Yeah, you better.”

Rhys smiles.  He definitely will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post [here](https://rednaelo.tumblr.com/post/167500412168) if you want to like/reblog it


End file.
